


Prelude to Hen Night

by destinationtoast



Series: Dangerverse [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, alternate POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:23:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3793084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destinationtoast/pseuds/destinationtoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for ShadowTurquoise's prompt:<br/>"Alternate POV: Disregard the Danger/Chapter 8/Anthea's POV when Janine invites Cath to hen night."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prelude to Hen Night

**Author's Note:**

> An alternate POV taking place during [this chapter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1327075/chapters/3509270) of Disregard the Danger. Thanks to ShadowTurquoise for the terrific prompt!
> 
> (Yes, for anyone who is confused by having received a notification about a fic with a different name -- I changed the title a few hours after posting.)

“I’m going to the wedding.”

“Of course you aren’t. Do you think my brother and Doctor Watson wouldn’t recognize you and wonder why you were there?”

“John might not,” Anthea observes.

Mycroft leans back in his chair and raises an eyebrow. “Point taken. Still. Your presence would call everything into question, for Sherlock at least.”

She stands before his desk. She crosses her arms and frowns. “I’ll go in disguise, obviously.” She draws out the final word and leaves the _don't be an idiot_ implicit -- a speech pattern picked up from years spent observing both Holmes brothers. When he just watches her, unmoved, she lets a note of desperation creep into her voice. “I’ve only asked for one personal day in the past two years – to go to my dear friend’s wedding. I can’t believe you’re denying me this.” 

Mycroft looks exasperated. “I find it difficult to believe you want to risk one of our agents’ cover stories so you can attend a wedding. Disguises are no guarantee against Sherlock. Besides she can hardly be a dear friend, can she? You never spend time together outside of work.”

She half-turns away, “I just -–” there’s a hitch in her breath, and she trails off. “It’s so hard to make any connections in our line of work, and so few people understand…” Her voice wavers.

From the corner of her eye, she can tell that Mycroft is looking faintly alarmed. “I cannot grant this request. Ask me for anything else. Not this.”

Her slightly trembling lip stills instantly. “Hen Night.”

He sighs, rubbing his brow. “Ahh. That’s what you were targeting all along, isn’t it?”

She smiles, dropping all pretense. “Yep.”

He shakes his head. “The fact that you were to be performing surveillance that evening notwithstanding, I would have said no. It's too dangerous – John might see you, or somebody else might recognize you with Mary and connect the dots.”

“But now you can’t say that, because you promised me anything.” 

He glowers. “Gloating is unbecoming on you.”

She grins unrepentantly. “I’ll be taking this Saturday off. Also, I can’t believe you still fall for the nearly crying routine.” 

She knows it’s more than that, though. Something Sherlock said to Mycroft several months ago has shaken him; he’s been a bit off ever since. He’d asked her once, as they were coming home from another evening of saving the world, whether their work is worth it.

“Worth what?” she’d asked.

“The lack of everything else.” 

She hadn’t had an answer at the time. For the most part, she does think it’s worth it. Her work is essential, and fulfilling. But when she has a moment to breathe, she occasionally misses close friendships, relationships -– Mary is truly the closest friend she’s had in years. She’d thought Mycroft impervious to such moments of loneliness, before that remark. But since then, though he’d said nothing further, she’d caught him staring off into space more. And then, of all things, he’d gone on to acquired the first pet she’d ever known him to have. (Though in reality, a fish is not a pet – it’s an obligation that falls to your assistant to fill whenever you’re too busy.)

Now, Mycroft ignores her barb. “Well, seeing as how two of my top agents will be shirking their duties that day, they might as well do so extravagantly. If you want to put anything on the company card, I’ll authorize it.”

“Excellent. I believe Janine has planned a wild night of karaoke and dancing – I’ll make sure we have top shelf drinks.” 

Mycroft visibly shudders. “I didn’t realize the goal was torture.”

She smirks at him. “Don’t sing, don’t dance... How did your brother end up with all the artistic genes?”

He sniffs. “Actually, I’m a capable dancer, and I have a better singing voice than he does.” She makes a mental note to find a way to force Mycroft to sing as soon as possible. “But I don’t consider -–”

“-– fun to be worthwhile?” she suggests teasingly. “Or mingling with the general public?”

He frowns, then tilts his head in acknowledgement. “Overstated, but not entirely inaccurate. Part of why I never could abide legwork.”

“I’m going to have so much more fun than you did when I get promoted and start doing more fieldwork.”

His expression softens. “I have the utmost confidence that you will be more brilliant than I was on my own field assignments. And that we simply won’t know how to function here without you.”

She ducks her head at the unexpected sentimentality, and Mycroft looks away as well. “Go,” Mycroft waves. “Abandon me, and plan for the dreadful evening. I’m counting on you to ensure that Agent Morstan has a delightful time.”

“Yes, sir.” As she leaves his office, she pulls out her phone and calls the number she copied from the file.

“Hello?” She says, switching to a voice that’s softer, a touch more hesitant. “Is this Janine? Yes, hello, this is Cath. Mary’s friend? I know it’s last minute, but I was wondering if I might still be able to RSVP for Hen Night.”


End file.
